The electricity arced to the bolts Dr. Goiterstein had placed in the neck of the human-like being he was attempting to jolt into life. So far, the sheet covering Der, which was the name he had
given to his artificial being, had not moved, meaning Der was not yet alive. What was he doing wrong? He knew this was going to work. He re-checked the connections of the jumper cables going from
his spare car battery to the neck-bolts of Der. A shower of sparks shot from the neck-bolts of Der into his creation’s face, and suddenly the sheet covering Der’s body twitched, he sat up and
started to speak,

“Hey, me on fire. Watch it!”

It had worked. “It’s alive! It’s alive!” screamed Dr. Goiterstein. Then he told his creation, “Your name is Der.”

Dr. Goiterstein laughed and replied, “Well, the part of your brain that controls swear words is functioning beautifully.”

Der again looked perplexed and asked, “What Dr. mean?”

“I mean your language is… is… colorful.”

“Der say, “What you talk about? What color? Der see no color.”

“It’s just a figure of speech, Der. It’s just that you swear like a sailor.”

“Der know no sailors.”

“Forget it, Der.

Der had wandered away from the laboratory and found himself by a small lake, surrounded by wildflowers. He found himself drawn to the pretty colors. Suddenly a small girl approached him as he
smelled the flower’s fragrance.

“Hello,” the girls said, “what’s ya doing?”

Der held out some flowers in his hand, “Der pick beauty.”

The girl let out a small laugh and replied, “Those are flowers.”

Der then said, “You funning Der? Der may not know stuff, but Der know when he being funned,” and he reached for his tormentor.

The little girl ran away, screaming for her mother.

“Der not like your funning crap--Der one pissed mofo!” he yelled at her.

Der kept walking until he came to a cabin. Youfunnen? Der asked himself. Wayoutherewherenothing? He heard strange sounds coming
from the cabin. He strode up to the door, which had been left open due to the hot weather. He walked through it, trying to make sense of the strange noise, and saw an older man playing something.
He just stood there until the man sensed his presence and said,

“Is someone there?”

Der mumbled and the man said, “There is someone there--hello stranger. Come in and set awhile. As you have probably already noticed, I’m blind.”

Der blurted, “What blind mean?”

The man replied, “Blind? Are you kidding me? It means I can’t see.”

Der raised his voice and practically shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Der sorry--that the shits!”

“I couldn’t agree with you more--and there’s nothing wrong with my hearing, I can hear just fine.”

“Excuse Der. Now you piss Der off. Der say he’s sorry for yelling. Excuse the crap out of Der!”

The man responded, “I don’t think I like you. I tried to be nice, but all I get in return is a load of grief.”

Der looked at the man and replied, “Der sorry you no like him--can you see what Der do now?

“I’m blind, so no, I can’t see,” shouted the man.

Der responded with, “Der flip you off--eat it, you blind bastard!”

Der thought to himself, Dernotknowwhatflipoffmean--howDerknowthat?

At last, Der was feeling run-down and thought it would be a good time to be getting back to the lab. Dr. Goiterstein was probably getting worried. Then as he was walking through some woods, he saw
fire. Someone was coming through the woods with a torch.

“There he is, this way,” a voice cried out.

Suddenly, several more men with torches appeared. He found himself afraid and clumsily took off running away from the glowing flames, until he came upon a wooden tower. The sign out front said,
‘Forest Fire Watch Tower’, but of course Der couldn’t read so the words meant nothing to him. The flames were getting closer, so he started climbing until reaching the top of the tower. The men
carrying the torches suddenly burst into a clearing at the base of the tower, and one yelled,

“There he is!”

Der panicked and climbed out onto a small ledge which protruded from the watchtower’s deck.

“Hey, Jed--we thought you were dead. We’ve been looking all over for you,” one of the men said.

Der was confused. Apparently they thought he was someone else. Then, into his limited brain, came a thought. If this Jed had been recently buried, might not he have Jed’s head? Der thought he
understood. They must have been looking for their friend and mistakenly thought he was Jed. But didn’t they see there was a 7-ft. tall flesh monster with bolts in his neck, green-colored, and
squid-ugly, was up on the tower? Great. Suddenly, as Der was looking down, he grew dizzy and his vision blurred. He should get away from the edge--it was a long way down. Der started back and his
last step before reaching the safety of the porch drew nothing but air and he suddenly plummeted head first to his death.

Dr. Goiterstein thought about all that work down the drain, for the stupid man-made moron had fallen to his death. It was time to start over.

******

It had moved. Dr. Dan Goiterstein had shot the electricity into the creation’s neck bolts and the sheet he had used to cover his new human-like creation had moved beneath it. It was alive!
He thought back to all the trouble he’d had at the graveyard, digging up coffins in the dead (poor choice of words) of night so he could steal different body parts to stitch on his soon-to-be-alive
second ‘son’:

They had snuck into the cemetery and dug up a coffin. Unfortunately, when they had tried to lift the coffin out of the grave, his helper, a man named Bones (appropriate) Kelly, had let his hand
slip, causing the coffin to fall back into the grave, where it had smashed to pieces and the fresh body to slide, in a grotesque gelatinous pile of innards and bones, back to the bottom of the
grave.

Wellthatdude’snotgoingtoworkforwhatIneed, thought Goiterstein to himself. They quickly
shoveled the dirt back into the grave and dug up another. This time they didn’t drop the coffin and Goiterstein pried of the top. As soon as he did, an awful stench hit his nose and maggots swarmed
out of the dead guy’s mouth, nose, and ears. Immediately, Kelly spewed today’s blue-plate special, or rather what remained of it, all over the inside of the coffin, and all over the corpse.

Goiterstein said,

“Well, that guy was putrid, he would never do.”

So they dug up a third fresh corpse and this time the body was in good shape, relatively speaking. They managed to drag it to the truck and carefully loaded it sitting propped up between them, so
they would look like they had three people for the carpool lane. They then drove back to Goiterstein’s lab.

Goiterstein snapped his attention back to the present, where his new creation, Der II, was struggling to life. He spoke,

“Wwwhhheeerrree here?”

“Welcome to the land of the living, Der II.”

“Where Land of the Living, that near England?” Der II asked.

“Forget it. You’re in my laboratory, I created you.”

Der II then asked, “How the hell I know England?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe some memories from the brain we used were somehow transplanted into you, along with the brain. I had that same problem the last time. Truth-be-told, I just don’t know.”

The doctor had brought Der II to his castle-like home by the lake, right next to his lab. He figured Der II needed to learn about living in the real world, and what better way to teach him than to
let him stay here? When they’d arrived at his house, Goiterstein opened them both a beer, then switched on the television. He sat down in one recliner, motioning for Der II to do likewise in the
other one. An uncertain Der II said,

“Der II no sit in crazy-ass chair, Der II stay stand--and what this?” he said, pointing to the can of beer in his hand.

Goiterstein replied, “Oh, sit down, I guarantee it’s comfortable. And what’s in your hand is what humans drink to relax, it’s called “beer”.”

Der II prodded the chair, decided it looked alright, sat down, and took a big drink of the beer.

“Yuck, taste like crap!” he exclaimed, spewing it about three feet onto the carpet.

Goiterstein chastised him, “Der II--you should go outside, or to the sink to do that. You need to learn manners, and give the beer another chance--it takes awhile to grow on you.”

Once again, Der II tried to see behind him. “Der II have beer growing on him?”

They were sitting and watching an old horror movie on television.

“What pile of crap, Der II no believe,” Der II exclaimed.

Goiterstein said, “Der II, that’s how I made you.”

Der II thought for a second, and replied, “Oh, yeah.”

Der II wasn’t thinking straight, thanks to the alcohol. He’d taken Goiterstein’s advice and tried another beer, then another, until there was just one left in the case. Seeing as how Goiterstein
had only had three, it was no wonder Der II was feeling no pain.

Der II somehow managed to make over on his stomach and spewed beer everywhere.

Goiterstein looked at the dripping, disgusting mess, and said, “Oh dear Der II, I tried to get you to stop drinking, and look. Well, at least you learned to drink alcohol in moderation.”

“Der II feel better. Bring on more!”

Oh. “Der II, that’s not very smart right now.”

“Der II say, “What, are you Der II’s mother? Der II going out.”

Goiterstein knew he couldn’t allow Der II to leave, so he started to ask him for his car keys, before remembering he didn’t even know how to drive. “Der II, I’m your father, and I say no.”

“Eat it, old man--you not tell what to do. Der II go looking for chicks.”

Dr. Goiterstein quickly, desperately, tried to think of something to change his mind, and replied, “Hey, I just had a wonderful idea. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you, I’m going to build
you a babe.”

“Der II intrigued,” replied Der II, and he stopped on his way to the door.

“First of all, how do you even know what ‘intrigued’ means, and secondly, I promise to build you a babe. After all, if I can build you, I can build a woman.”

Der II replied, “What a great idea--Der II say make her with tits out to here and hot backside, and Der II stay.”

He needed another body. Dr. Goiterstein sighed as he hoisted his side of the coffin, while Bones Kelly hoisted the other.

******

Dr. Goiterstein was almost ready, ready to jolt another life out of dead flesh. He had already hooked up the jumper cables to his spare car battery and all he needed to do was hook up the two
clamps on the other end to the neck bolts which protruded from either side of the lovely, gracefully-curving neck of his newest creation, which he would call Miss Wood. Miss Wood had been made
simply to keep his male creation Der II happy and away from singles bars. It seemed that Der II was feeling his oats, so in order to keep Der II from going crazy with artificial lust, he had agreed
to make Miss Wood. He had followed Der II’s directions to the letter. He’d sewed a fine backside and mammoth jugs onto Miss Wood’s body. He hoped Der II would like what he saw or else some
bar-hopping ladies were in for the shock of their lives, for Der II was 7 ft. tall, had green skin, and walked like a pregnant lumberjack. If Der II thought himself a ladies man he would soon learn
the awful truth: he was a hideous-looking, cobbled together, staggering joke to women. Goiterstein couldn’t let Der II be humiliated like that, for Der II had no shot, so he’d agreed to build a
woman for Der II.

He made the connection to Miss Wood’s neck and waited for the sheet covering her to move, indicating life. Suddenly there was movement and the doctor removed the jumper cables from the car battery
and then pulled off the sheet. Miss Wood sat up, naked, and looked around. She was beautiful, at least her face.

Goiterstein had to put a stop to this, “Look, let’s all have some beers and calm down.”

He knew how badly alcohol effected Der II, but he had to take that chance. The first time Der II had some beer, he had turned into a bastard, but hopefully that had just been a one-time
occurrence.”

Miss Wood asked, “What is beer?”

They each had plenty of beer, and the alcohol was affecting each of the doctor’s creations badly. Both of his creations already had guzzled several, when all of a sudden, Miss Wood jumped up on the
table where they were sitting, started stripping off her clothes, and her pieced-together body was not a pretty sight. But Der II didn’t seem to mind, he was even asking Dr. Goiterstein if he had
any dollar bills he could borrow to encourage Miss Wood to go even farther.

“Yeah, Der II like, take it all off, baby!”

Dr. Goiterstein knew it had gone far enough, so he said, “I think it’s time to say goodnight.”

Der II came unglued, saying, “Say goodnight? Der II think just get to the good part. Der II say no way, there more beer?”

Dr. Goiterstein cringed and cursed himself for giving both his creations alcohol, for what little common sense either might have had, had disappeared faster than the beer. He’d had to leave the
room when Miss Wood and Der II had started to fondle one another. Now he waited outside their closed door for them to make an appearance. Just then, the door flew open and Miss Wood appeared,
yelling,

“How disgusting--how could I have slept with him? What a mistake, could someone give me a ride home? Oh, right, I live here.”

Goiterstein took comfort in the fact there would be no more artificially-created people, leastwise not by him. He’d had so much trouble with the two he’d already created, Der II and Miss Wood. Der
II got uncontrollable, and Miss Wood became easy, when they consumed alcohol. Give Der II a couple of beers, and he turned into some kind of monster. Give the same to Miss Wood, and she was liable
to whip out her tits, which, to put it mildly, was not easy on the eyes.

As Dr. Goiterstein was just sitting there relaxing, Miss Wood came into the living room, and said she had something to tell him. He told her to go ahead. She told him it was painful to admit, but
she and Der II had gotten together, and there would soon be another mouth to feed.

The doctor was completely thrown for a loop, and yelled, “How could you be so stupid? How are you going to support a child? In one night of careless pleasure, you’ve thrown you life away,
daughter!”

She replied, “Oh Father, I never meant to hurt you, please, try to understand.”

Goiterstein shook his head, and responded, “Oh, I only want what’s best for you. Der II may be my creation, but he’s a loser asshole. You’ll never get him to step up and take responsibility.”

“Come on Der II, how many other creations do you see here?” Miss Wood replied.

Der II then said, “Der II only with Miss Wood one night. How Der II know there no other guys?”

“Der II, you’re the only one I’ve ever been with,” she cried.

“So Miss Wood say. If you prove, then Der II daddy. If not prove, Der II not screwing up life.”

Dr. Goiterstein couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, thinking about the upcoming birth of his first grandchild. Der II and Miss Wood were no longer speaking to each other. Most of the problem
seemed to arise from the fact Der II and Miss Wood had nothing in common but being cobbled together out of dead people. Neither could handle any alcohol at all. Together, they made a terrible
match. Der II had sworn he wasn’t the father, even though there was no one else Miss Wood could have possibly been with. They weren’t even on speaking terms.

At last the day had arrived--Der III had been born. Upon his arrival, Goiterstein had been overcome with emotion. His first grandchild. Der III looked up as Goiterstein held the child, and smiled.

******

Der II was angry. He was a father. Even though he had told Miss Wood he probably wasn’t the child’s father, he knew the truth. It sure made things more complicated. He wasn’t prepared to be
responsible for a child. Still, he felt a surge of emotion whenever the child was near. He knew if he admitted responsibility, he could kiss his wild partying days goodbye.

Miss Wood answered the knock upon her door, and opened it to find none other than Der II standing there.

“What do you want?” she asked, rather sarcastically.

“Ah, Der II like to talk,” he replied.

Miss Wood then said, “Oh, okay, come in.”

Der II moved past her and sat nervously on the couch. “Der II love what you do to place,” he said.

“What do you want?” asked Miss Wood.

Der II got a pained expression on his face and said, “Look, Der II most likely the father. Der II not sure can do it, but Der II want us to be family. Der II ask you to take him back.”

He had completely taken her by surprise. “Der II, are you sure?”

They were making a go of it, Der II, Der III, and Miss Wood were a family.

******

Karl Lackey was a little frightened. Like a moron he had come to this lonely castle high in the hills of Bulbia to check out reports that something horrible, not to mention undead, lived here.
Lackey was a reporter working on a story about this place because several people had checked into this bed and breakfast never to be seen again. His shaking hand reached for the knocker but before
he could use it the door was flung open and a dude wearing all a dark suit with tails, and a black cape said,

“Vellcome, my name ist Count Chalker. I’m zee owner of dis establishmenttt. How may I bee of hep?”

Lackey sensed something sinister from this dude in black. “Ah yes, I’d like a room please,” he managed with not a little fear in his voice.

Lackey held out his personalized Baha Times credit card without thinking. “Ooopps, let’s try this one,” and handed him a different bank card.

“I’ll bee right back vit your room key,” Count Chalker replied as he left the room.

Count Chalker ran the credit card through the imprinter after calling it in to be verified. So, this guy was a reporter eh? Well, he couldn’t allow him to leave. If it became known around that The
Restful Arms B&B was run by a vampire, his business would go bye-bye. That sure would suck. Eh, ha, ha--he always cracked himself up. Speaking of sucking, that’s exactly what he intended to do
tonight, to Mr. Lackey’s blood!

Karl Lackey slowly climbed the spiral staircase Count Chalker had told him would lead to his room. Even though it was still daylight outside, it was as dark as a tomb inside. He strained to see by
the flickering, feeble light cast by the single candle he held in his trembling hand. Up the stairs and to the right, he’d been told. All he had to do was survive this night and in the morning,
after a light, yet satisfying continental breakfast and some coffee, he was sure things would look better.

It was long after midnight and the B&B was dark, except for the eerie shaft of moonlight which danced across the floor and illuminated a bat, a bat which was flying up the staircase, where it
turned back into Count Chalker, or rather, his more evil incarnation, Dripula. He slowly opened the door and crept to the bed, where he gazed upon the sleeping face of Karl Lackey, who had finally
nodded off. Oh, look at that neck, it was a neck built for sucking.

Karl Lackey was finding it difficult keeping his eyes open. Despite his dread it had been a long day. He still strained to hear any strange noise in the room but more and more, he caught himself
drifting off and dreaming.

Dripula pulled back the covers and exposed the victim’s neck. He bent to start sucking the tasty plasma, when all of a sudden he felt that old tickle in his nose. Not now! His allergies where
starting up. His nose started pouring and he found it hard to keep from sneezing. He started to sit up when his nose itched uncontrollably and he sneezed loudly.

Karl Lackey was lying in bed and a beautiful woman was pulling back the covers and bending down to nibble his neck when suddenly, she sneezed, loudly. He was jolted awake to see a vampire as he
changed into a bat and started to fly away. What the hell? Then he realized he had fallen asleep and had been awakened by the vampire’s sneezing. He grabbed the can of mace he had kept on his
nightstand and turned to see where the vampire was. Dripula was flying towards the open door. Once he gained the open hallway, he would then get away. Lackey couldn’t allow that, so he took aim. It
would be a difficult shot, but he let loose a stream of mace. The mace hit home on the darting bat.

He was almost safely away and no harm had been done. All Lackey would see was a bat flying away. He wouldn’t know it was the Count. That had been a close one, but….suddenly he was hit by a stream
of water. Hah, if Lackey thought that a stream of water was going to stop hi….son of a bitch that stung!

Karl Lackey watched the stream of mace strike the bat, who started flying erratically, going in circles, and bouncing off the walls and furniture. It landed with a thud on the carpet and sat there.
After a few moments it began to change shape. Before long, the bastard had turned from a bat, first into Dripula, then back into B&B owner, Count Chalker. Lackey couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Count Chalker, why you’re no innkeeper, you’re a vampire.”

The Count replied, “Vell, no shit--I vould have sucked you dry of blood, except I’m allergic to something you’re vearing.”

“Oh, maybe like these fleece pajamas?”

Crap!

******

Chalker had lost the B and B, after word of his being a vampire got out, thanks to Lackey's article had been published. He was left with no way to make a living and so he’d ended up here, ‘Colonel
Scar’s Halloween Traveling Show’, where he was cast, ironically enough, as the werewolf. Colonel Scar had told him when he’d requested the role of the vampire that no one would buy him as the
vampire. Oh well, he needed the money, so he became the werewolf.

Dr. Goiterstein was trying to make his human-like creation feel more like a real person, not the cobbled-together piece of crap he was, so he thought of taking his creation, Der II, to a show. Now
that he had a child of his own, he needed to get much more mature. There were no stage plays in town but he did see an advertisement for a ‘Coronal Scar’s Halloween Traveling Show’, which sounded
close enough. Der II needed to experience the things real people experienced.

SoInot have choice? thought Der II. Well, he was having none of it. He’d go and pretend to be happy about it, just long enough to make his escape.

The audience was screaming as Count Chalker howled and bared his fake fangs from which, for those in the audience sitting close to the stage, fake blood dripped.

Dis iz ridiculous, he thought. He would never let actual blood didn’t drip from his mouth, he wouldn’t allow the precious plasma to go to waste like that. No, he would have sucked up every
last drop, but the audience had paid good money to see a show, and he’d give them one. Werewolves didn’t really exist, everyone knew that, but he’d sure make it seem as if they did. He crept on
fake claws under the backdrop of a painted fake full moon up behind the fake farmer, howled, and attacked.

Der II was sitting there watching the fake nightmare while planning his escape. He looked sickly, due to the white-face makeup he wore to conceal his natural (or, more accurately, unnatural) green
skin color. He looked like some sort of clown in his dress. Dr. Goiterstein had made him conceal everything which might give him away by dressing as a woman. From his neck bolts hung bazaar-looking
earrings, which made him look all-the-more ridiculous. Der II didn’t know a lot, but he knew he made one sad woman, and the neck rings only made his neck bolts even more noticeable.

Count Chalker looked out at his audience. They all were having a wonderful time. They were all dressed normally, except for this one woman his eyes kept returning to, man was she freaky!

Der II had decided it was time. He told Dr. Goiterstein he had to take a leak and after staggering around trying to decide which way to go, made his way to the concourse and stumbled to a door
which, when he opened it, proved to lead to the stage. Oh well, he had no choice, he’d been gone way too long. From the audience, he heard Dr. Goiterstein calling his name, he looked out upon the
audience, and saw the doctor facing back up the aisle. There was no way in hell he was going back to the laboratory, so he entered onto the stage.

Count Chalker was doing his best to make it seem like he was a real werewolf, when the stage door opened and the same freak woman he had noticed before walked through it and onto the stage.

“Look Mommy, a strange-looking woman with white streaks running down her green skin,” Der II heard from the audience. He was sweating under the glare of the arc lights illuminating the stage.
Great globs of white makeup slid down his face, revealing his green-colored skin.

Count Chalker was hacked. Here was freak-woman doing her best to steal the spotlight. Well, he wasn’t going to take this. He strode over to the intruder and whispered,

“An vhat iz it you think you iz doingk?”

Der II found himself confronted by the angry-looking wolf-man. He responded to the angry wolf-man’s query by saying,

“Der II play along? We playing a game Der II missing?” he answered loudly.

“Oh, juss forget itt you dum koff,” the Count replied.

Der II was perplexed. What was the wolf-man so upset about? “Look, tell Der II where is door and Der II leave.”

Count Chalker gave up. “Itt iz right over dare.”

Goiterstein couldn’t believe it. There was Der II, on stage with a 3rd-rate actor portraying a werewolf, fully in view of the audience, who seemed confused and were being strangely
silent, as if seeing a green-skinned woman was a common occurrence. They must think Der II was a part of the show. He had to get Der II away before the audience figured out Der II wasn’t.

Der II lumbered in the direction the wolf-man had pointed, but saw no door. It was a dead-end. Suddenly, Dr Goiterstein’s voice sounded behind him.

“Der II, the game is over--the jig is up.”

There it was again--a reference to some kind of game. He tried and tried to understand but to no avail. If this was a game he didn’t know how to play, and what was a ‘jig’, and if it was up, he’d
better be more careful, lest he trip over it.

Goiterstein went on, “You have no way out of here so you had better just come quietly to me and we’ll go back to the lab.”

Back to the lab? He wasn’t going back there. In a panic, he walked towards the wall. If there was no door, he would make one. With that, he started punching holes in the wall.

“Der II, stop right now!” came the cry from Dr. Goiterstein.

“Der II say eat it, Doctor. Der II not go back, Der II never go ba—”. His words were cut off by a roaring noise, as the entire wall crashed down over him.

“Der II!” screamed Goiterstein. He had tried to stop Der II from punching the wall, for he clearly saw just what was bound to happen, but Der II wouldn’t listen, and now there was no point in
screaming--Der II was dead, again.

Count Chalker had just been hacked at the girl, but hadn’t wanted what had just occurred to her to happen. Well, screw this job--pretty soon the place would be swarming with police like locusts,
asking a lot of questions, and as he was really a vampire, he couldn’t afford to have the police around. He had too many skeletons in his closet, literally. He changed into a bat and just flew
away.

Dr. Goiterstein was breaking to Miss Wood and their son that Der II, her husband, and his father, was gone. After he had broken the news to them, it was back to the lab for another try. Sure, this
time it hadn’t worked out, but try, try again.

******

Ah, the wondrous sight of Dripula's castle at last came into view. His wings felt heavy. He'd never seen a more pleasurable sight, except for that one show in Amsterdam, he hadn't thought it was
physically possible for the human body to contort to that extent, but damned if this one girl's hadn't. He was grateful to be home, home where he could have a cup of coffee with added plasma
(granted, it wasn't like fresh, but it would tide him over until he could find his next victim) and put a DVD of 'Dracula' in his player; granted he's seen it over 2,000 times, but it never grew
old, much like himself, and unwind from his horrible day, it was like viewing pictures of his own life. After bailing on Scar's show, he was glad to be finally home. He would go inside and sink his
tired fangs and the rest into his recliner chair and sleep for a week.

He made the change back into Count Chalker, knocked and waited. Where was Ivan Seatankovich, the neighborhood drunkard that he had hired to look after the place while he was gone? Probably busy
trying to drink up to his name. Chalker should have known--by trying to save a few Leu, he'd gotten exactly what he'd paid for. Just when he was going to change back into a bat and wearily drag
himself back into the air one more time and fly up to the upper floors to find a window that had been left open, he heard,

"Who's there?" in a slurred voice.

"Ist mee, Countt Chalker."

"How can I be sure? You could be a thief, disguising his voice, just waiting for me to open the door so he can gain access, render me unconscious, and rob the place blind."

No reply was to be heard, and Chalker became enraged--"Open zis door right noww, Seatankovich, zoo diche!" He then stayed silent, and strained to hear any noise from beyond the door, but nothing
was to be heard. "Ahhh!" screamed Chalker. Somehow, Seatankovich brought thoughts of a castrated bull to mind. Now thoroughly-pissed, he looked around for a way in. The only way he could think of
was the upstairs windows. Wearily, yet angrily, he made the transformation. Damn Seatankovich--this was bullshit!

******

He flew up to the first window and changed back into human form, tried it, and nothing, it was locked. "Rahat!" he shouted. He moved on to the next window, with the same result, "double-rahat!" he
screamed in rage.

Finally, at the sixteenth window, he had success--it slid open. "Remine mee ta get zee smaller house nex time," he mumbled to himself. He opened the window and changed back into a bat. He'd show
that bastard Seatankovich!

Ivan Seatankovich flopped lazily down on the couch and reached for his freshly-made gin and tonic, without the tonic. Some dick had come to the door, claiming to be Count Chalker, but he
wasn't due back for months. He'd been given a sacred task, look after Count Chalker's home, and damn it, Ivan Seatankovich vowed to uphold the trust Chalker had shown in him.

Then, he saw a bat loose in the house and grabbed up the tennis racket kept handy for just this purpose, and stood still in the middle of the floor. He wasn't going to let any bat fly around loose
in the house, it would likely take a dump on Chalker's furniture or the carpet. Every once in a while this happened--the damn thing must have gained access from the attic. Well, he would ace the
unlucky bastard into oblivion--he patiently waited until the bat flew close, and swung, hard.

Dripula flew down the big spiral staircase. He spotted the bastard Seatankovich with his back turned, then he watched as he turned towards him, grabbed something (Seatankovich put it behind his
back before he got a good look at it), and locked eyes with Dripula--guut, lett him watch vile I shitt on his shoulder, he thought. He darted away, darted back to begin his shit run,
and....his world went dark.

It was a perfect serve, the damn bat was sent arcing away like a out-of-control rocket, slammed into the cabinet across the room, and came to rest on the carpet. That must have killed
it--he walked over to where its lifeless bat-corpse lay in a crumpled little ball on the carpet, he didn't see any blood, so the carpet wouldn't be ruined and scooped it up. Then he walked to the
front door, unceremoniously flung the carcass far out into the yard, and went back into the house.

Oh, the searing pain! Slowly, and with great, painful slowness, Dripula came back to the world. He struggled to remember what had happened. He made the transformation back into human form, and
still he couldn't stand. He was getting soaked due to the freezing rain that had begun to fall, but was unable to move anywhere, so as water cascaded from his clothing, he just had to endure it. He
raised his arm and noticed a waffle pattern, with red welts covering his arm. What had caused that? Then bits and pieces of memory slowly invaded his foggy mind. He seemed to recall flying down the
staircase, flying over to Seatankovich, and then nothing. Well, whatever had happened, he was completely sore, you could play Tic-Tac-Toe on his skin, he was sitting outside in the pouring rain,
getting soaked, and he still hadn't gained access to his own house.

After a few more minutes, he managed to make it to his feet, painfully. He staggered to the door and knocked, rather loudly. A few more seconds passed and he could hear Seatankovich's approaching
footsteps.

"Not you again, look, I don't know who you really are, but you'd better clear out before I summon the authorities."

Shit, "Seatankovich; open zis door, noww!" He stood there, the rain soaking him, listening to the deafening silence coming from the other side of the door. "Zis ist sucked," he screamed at the
closed door--locked out of his own home!